


Miss You Dearly,

by diapason



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Evan Realises Zoe Is A Flawed Human, Evan stutters very little in this fic dont like dont read, Evan's Crush On Zoe Was Compulsory Heterosexuality, Gen, Ghost!Connor, Infrequent Updates, M/M, Multi Chapter Fanfic, Slow Burn, and isnt as anxious as evan about hurting anyones feelings, angsty teens, does it count as major character death if he's a ghost the whole way, entire scenes transcripted word for word from the bootleg because it has to be perfect, follows connor, ghost au, im very tired, jared probably eats bathbombs because fuck it, jareds not really in it after chapter 2 bc i wrote him out bc connor doesnt like him, lots of swearing, please, shes not an angel with a guitar, tags tags everywhere and not a word to read, teen for swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diapason/pseuds/diapason
Summary: "I always thought death was exit only,thought some of him.Some more of him thoughtCheckmate, atheists."Connor Murphy thought his chances of an afterlife that wasn't eternal Hell were low - and, seeing as the only living person who still hears and sees him is that creepy fuck Evan Hansen who was obsessed with his sister, he appears to have been right...But hey, Evan's not bad conversation, and as long as he doesn't fuck everything up irreversibly OH HE FUCKED EVERYTHING UP IRREVERSIBLY.Will Connor still somehow find love, even after his life is turned into everyone else's beyond his control?





	1. Time Travel (at a rate of 60 seconds per minute)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One big game of Spot The Musical Reference, honestly.

The first thing Connor knew after the overdose was that no, clearly he couldn't escape the dicks at school. After all, here he was, probably in...   
  
This wasn't hospital.   
  
In fact, he was exactly where he left himself - in his room, on his floor, feeling like shit. He tried to sit up and found he was lighter than he had expected.   
  
_Damn, woulda been starved if I hadn't got there myself first._  
  
He stood up, surveying the room - it was 1am, about 2 hours after he knew he'd decided to make sure they could never laugh at him again. And yes, the note was still in his pocket, crumpled up after he'd punched the wall and cried soon as he got in. That damn note...   
  
Evan Hansen's creepy obsession with his sister (which, in hindsight, had been what it was. Not a plan to ruin him, just some sick weirdo) made him turn to the door - he should go and check on her. Hopefully she’d be asleep; that way he could see his baby sister for who she was, not the brat she became whenever he tried to talk to her.   
  
Except his hand phased right through the door handle.   
  
He stumbled back, shocked by the sensation, and tripped right over his own corpse; pushing up against the wall, he stared at himself. Dead.   
  
And then he realised _oh, it's some kind of creepy lucid-dream-slash-trip. I don't even know what I took, probably most of the painkillers. Mom and Dad really didn't have a lot to kill me with._  
  
And then he thought _they're trying to It's A Wonderful Life me, right? Like, “oh, you're so missed and loved and everybody in the world is lighting candles at your loss, don’t do it”. Like anyone’s going to mourn me._  
  
And then he thought _shit, is anyone going to mourn me?_  
  
And he was still dead on the floor.   
  
A lot of time must have passed between when he first woke up and when he next thought, because then his mom was yelling “Connor, get down here! Breakfast!", and he was still stood with his back against the wall, staring at his dead self. Which still hadn't moved, by the way.   
  
Tentatively, he tried touching himself to see if his soul would, like, fuse back into his body, but no such luck. Sighing, he was about to go downstairs and join his family, make some bullshit up about how he’d seen the error of his ways and would never smoke again, when he phased through the doorknob for the second time. (It was far less shocking when a part of you expected it.)   
  
Connor sat on his bed, eyes unfocused. Everything was quiet as they waited for him downstairs, even though he wasn't coming.   
  
And then Zoe must have come to lean on his door like always, threaten him to come tolerate the rest of the family, and not expected it to be unlocked.   
  
"Connor, you-! Woah! Jesus," she exclaimed, still backwards, not seeing anything of what was currently on the floor and _he was dead and Zoe was about to find out_ and as she turned to look at his bed everything went slow-mo because damn, how could he face this?   
  
"We're two days into school, you can 't be this bad ye- "   
  
Zoe screamed.

She was looking at the dead Connor, and the real Connor started to say "Zo," started to move towards her, but she didn't look up for a second, still screaming, falling to her knees, checking a pulse that even as she listened for breath he knew wasn't beating, and   
  
and   
  
and as his arms swept uselessly through her, he realised exactly what this was.

Not a drug trip, not a dream - he was dead. 

He was a ghost.   
  
_I always thought death was exit only_ , thought some of him.   
  
Some more of him thought _Checkmate, atheists._  
  
After a moment Connor stood up, staring at the wall and his desk, littered with anything he hadn't wanted to deal with and now would never have to. Anything to avoid seeing his mom find out.  
  
Without noticing, he reached for the note in his pocket and gripped it.   
  
Time passed.

* * *

 

 

When he next knew what was going on, he felt significantly less like shit. Also, he was at school, somehow? Probably something ghosty, he didn't know, it wasn't like 7 hours of being dead had made him Ghost Extraordinaire, why the fuck were you asking him.   
  
**Evan Hansen, please come to the principal's office** , the intercom told him, and he tuned it out for the split-second before he gathered himself. Evan was the creep who'd pushed him over the edge, so clearly the school had heard about it and were punishing Evan for making Connor do this - this was something he couldn't miss...   
  
Except oh, he was already in the principal's office, and  _ why were his mom and dad there? _   
  
She had been crying. He clearly hadn't.   
  
Connor knew he picked his favourite parent right.   
  
Oh, and there was Evan, little dick with his blue shirt and broken arm. Connor had scrawled himself all over that cast, because clearly the kid didn't have any friends to do it instead. He now regretted that this was the last thing he had written.   
  
"Good morning. Is Mr Howard...? Sorry - sorry, just they... said on the loudspeaker for me to go to the principal's office -"   
  
"Mr Howard stepped out," his dad interrupted. Evan seemed scared, but hadn't he always been one of those weird, scared kids? Connor perched himself on the window behind Evan. "We wanted to speak with you in private, if you'd like to maybe..." He gestured to the chair, in that annoying, non-verbal way that Dad always did, expecting you to understand with barely any clues.   
  
Evan sat, and Connor felt the awkward silence fall. It dawned on him that he could start chicken dancing and none of them would know - but he didn't.   
  
"We're Connor's parents."   
  
"Oh."  _ Yeah, damn right, oh, you killed their son. _   
  
"Why don't you go ahead -"   
  
"I'm going as fast as I can," his mom protested quietly.   
  
"That's not what I said, is it?"   
  
His mom was holding paper (crumpled, he noticed) - well, less like 'holding', more like 'clutching as though her life depended on it'. Something important.    
  
"Connor, he wanted you to have this."  _ What? I didn't leave him anything. _   
  
"We'd never heard your name before, Connor never... and then we saw... Dear Evan Hansen."   


_ … oh. Oh, no. _   
  
His hand went to the note in his own pocket, and he pulled it out. They were crumpled the same way, it had to be the same one... They thought that-?   
  
"He gave this to you?" Evan didn't seem to get it yet. He was shaky, sure, but Evan Hansen was a shaky person, and it seemed to Connor like he... like he didn't know yet.   
  
"We didn't know you two were friends."   
  
"Friends?"   
  
"We didn't think Connor had any friends."   
  
("Well, gee, thanks, Dad," Connor muttered.)   
  
"And then we see this... letter, and it seems to suggest pretty clearly that you and Connor were - or at least that Connor, that he thought of you as..."   
  
"... A dick," Connor finished sardonically.   
  
And he could have sworn he saw Evan jump.   
  
But maybe it was just his mind.   
  
"I mean, it's right there, Dear Evan Hansen, it's addressed to you, he wrote it to you."   
  
"You think that this, um, that Connor, wrote this to me?"   
  
His mom swallowed, with difficulty. "These are the words Connor wanted to share with you -"   
  
"- his last words -"   
  
"this is what he wanted you to have."

  
It took Evan a second.   
  
"I'm-I'm sorry, what do you mean, last words?"   
  
Dad had to fill in - Mom was crying again, shaking her head. He felt the need to go comfort her, tell her it'd be alright, but what could he do that would reach her?   
  
"Ah - Connor took his own life."   
  
OK, that stung a little to hear, Connor wasn't lying. It's not every dad you hear your dad tell some punk pervert that you killed yourself, alright?   
  
(And maybe he'd been starting to forget that his parents' eyes passed through him.)   
  
"...he what?"   
  
"And this is all we found with him -"  _ Liar, you found all your med bottles there too, I saw myself _ "- he had folded up in his pocket. I need you to see that he was..."   
  
"What?" Connor snapped, standing again. In front of him, Evan flinched.   
  
"He was trying to explain it, why he was..."

**I wish that** Dad was quoting the letter, and he read it aloud too, subconsciously  **everything was different, I wish I were a part of something, I wish what I said mattered**   
  
"Larry, please stop it!"   
  
"Okay, but that's - this is not, um - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Connor - uh, Connor didn't write this."   
  
Huh - honesty from the scheming creep. He had expected anything different, really, but he had expected death to be the end, and look how that turned out!   
  
"... What does that mean?"   
  
"Connor, uh - he - Connor, he didn't write this."   
  
"What does he mean?"   
  
"He's obviously in shock."   
  
"Or maybe he's right!" Connor offered, to no avail. (No, Evan really must just always be this jumpy.)   
  
"No no no, I just, he didn't, he didn't -"   
  
"- it's right here! -"   
  
"he probably just - can I please go now?"   
  
They all talked over each other. Evan offering apologies for nothing, Dad trying to keep the peace, Mom - confused and scared and so, so hopeful that he might not have been an utter failure of a son -   
  
Connor spoke, in the loudness.   
  
"Give it her back."   
  
He was actually surprised when Evan said "here, you should take it back, just please!"   
  
Hey, maybe his ghost powers were -   
  
"Larry, look. His cast."   
  
_ Shit. Should have known everything I ever do comes back to bite me. _   
  
Because scrawled right across Evan's stupid broken arm was CONNOR, and now they had no chance at getting Evan out of this.   
  
**His best and most dearest friend** , yup, all there on the fucking letter.

And that was that, he supposed.

And "you really have no friends?" Connor half-laughed. "I didn't either, but how lame is that when you know the whole story?"   
  
And his classmate stayed staring at the cast for a good 20 seconds after his parents left, having told Evan to come to dinner, they want to hear more. So Connor stuck around.   
  
And when Evan left, something drew Connor to follow.   
  


 

* * *

 

  
When Evan got home, the house was empty. Connor had never imagined the interior of the Hansen household, maybe because he'd never interacted with the Hansens, but he didn't think Evan would be home alone.   
  
"Sweet digs though, man," he commented.   
  
Evan locked the door, locked it again.   
  
Then turned on him.   
  
"What is this?"   
  
Connor inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. "You can? - what do you - I -"   
  
"Connor, what the fUCK is this." Evan sounded like he was threatening, but Connor could see the other boy shaking.   
  
So he turned around, faced the door, and reevaluated his options. Then he spoke.   
  
"Alright, first of all, you - you can see me, correct?"   
  
"What are you - YES, I can see you. You wouldn't shut up that whole time with your parents, I don't know what your problem is, but -"   
  
"Dude, I'm a ghost."   
  
Evan stopped. He looked through furrowed brows at Connor, who shrugged and shoved his hand through the wall for a couple seconds.   
  
A moment.   
  
Realisation.   
  
Then -   
  
"OH MY GOD," and Evan was hyperventilating now, stepping back, turning, running up the stairs - Connor followed, long legs had never been so useful - into his room. On his bed. Face in pillow.   
  
"Evan -"   
  
"You can't be real," came the muffled response. Connor pushed past this.   
  
"Evan, my whole family can't see me, but somehow you can, and it's probably because you killed me, but -"   
  
"What?" interrupted Evan. "I didn't kill you, you killed yourself."   
  
"You... I, I was sober, and tired, and I find a letter from you in the printer -" he pulls out the note, the ghost one - "about how  **all my hope is pinned on Zoe** and, fuck, I guess you just... broke me. 'Cause I went through with it, and it worked first try. Y'know?"   
  
"I mean, I... Shut up. You - can't be real."   
  
Connor considered this, looking down at his ghostly hands. They looked pretty real when they weren't shoved into a nearby solid object.   
  
"Can I not?"   
  
"No, you're - a, a hallucination, a freaky brain thing that's only here because I feel bad about, about everything, and you're here to torment me even more, right?"   
  
"Pretty sure I'm just a ghost."   
  
Evan groaned, a hand moving to his collar, the other holding his pillow like an anchor to reality. After a second, he turned over to face Connor.   
  
"You're not going away, are you?"

"Don't think so! Restless spirit, unfinished business, that sort of shit." He grinned briefly and, as Evan's legs pulled in to more closely imitate the fetus position, he took their space on the bed.   
  
Evan said nothing. It was hard to tell his expression, being that his face was back in the pillow, so Connor could only assume Evan was waiting for him to continue.   
  
"... Last time I sat on a bed, I was waiting for someone to find me."   
  
Evan seemed to stick on this. "Who did?" he asked quietly.   
  
"Zoe."   
  
"What'd she do?"   
  
"Scream. Call Mom and Dad."   
  
Evan sat up a little, and Connor filled the extra empty space that created. "Did she cry?"   
  
"Not then. I don't know if she has yet. I was there then, and I was in the principal's office next."   
  
"That's - three days."   
  
_ Three days? _   
  
"Oh."   
  
"So - uh, so now I know you're actually. dead, not just my brain finally giving up on me too - why can't your parents..."   
  
"See me? I don't know. Maybe I accidentally swore vengeance upon you when I was. Y'know."   
  
"You seem so different right now to how you are at school," Evan thought aloud, by now having edged up enough to actually look at Connor. Their eyes met - Evan was still clearly scared (but by now, he could assume that was just part of his disposition).   
  
He should have realised this wouldn't last. People never meant that when they said it.   
  
"Do I?"   
  
"Yeah. I don't - I don't know, just..."   
  
"Oh. I know what you mean, I was a dick before, but now I'm just annoying you."   
  
"No no no, it's not that! I just - sorry - I -"   
  
Connor stood up. "It's fine! I get it! I mean, nobody else likes me anyway, why did I ever think you would?"   
  
"Connor -"   
  
"I'll shut right the fuck up, go on, if you don't want me here..." He paused, not quite knowing what to say, and took a step towards the door.   
  
'Then just say so."   
  
"JESUS FUCK," Evan yelled, and Connor whirled around, and when had the sun set?   
  
"What?"   
  
"You disappeared! You were like, "if you don't want me here," and then you were just - gone."   
  
"I was?"   
  
"I thought you'd gone to try something else, I, I should have known not to say anything,  _ when does anybody want to hear it? _ "   
  
Connor pushed past that last bit. "That was, like, a second though, I said one thing, and you're like HOLY SHIT and I'm like what the fuck, did somebody die?"   
  
A pause.   
  
Connor laughed, and Evan smiled, looking down at his laptop (which was there, apparently) but he was laughing at Connor's joke, not something on the laptop, probably, most likely.   
  
"No, but - it's been three hours, Connor. I figured you weren't coming back, I mean, I don't know how ghosts work, I thought, oh God, I really am crazy, what was I thinking -"   
  
"Evan!"   
  
"Sorry."   
  
There was quiet. Connor felt himself relax back a little.   
  
"While you were gone. I. Uh. I talked to Jared."   
  
"Jared Kleinman? The shitbag with you yesterday?"   
  
"Three days -" he'd forgotten "- I told him about the meeting."   
  
"And did he think you were crazy?"   
  
"I didn't mention  _ you _ , obviously! Just that - your parents think we were friends now."

“I saw.”

"And he was like, ‘wow, you really do suck at life,’ and I guess I was like, ‘yeah’.”

“... Really.”

“Oh, and Alana Beck is all over Facebook like she knew you.”

“Who?”

“Exactly. Apparently, she learned your true self in your English class 2 years ago.”

“Nobody knows my true self… I sound like an absolute fucking hipster, oh my god.”

He lifted his knees up, briefly checking Evan's room out. There wasn't much - mainly a bed, the table next to it, no desk. He was probably poor or some shit.

…

Evan was staring.

“What?”

“You're floating.”

“I'm -” he looked down, and immediately dropped back into a standing position, one hand going to his leg. “I can float?”

“You learn something new every day,” Evan chuckled.

An idea came to Connor. "Woulda helped you out, right?”

“What?”

“You fell. Out of a tree, you could have used floating.”

“... mhm.”

Evan was looking back at his laptop screen - some part of Connor saw he had struck a chord, and it clashed.

“Uh. Sorry.”

“No, no, it's okay, it's fine, it's cool. I just - I just - it's okay, it's okay, it’S ALRIGHT, OKAY?”

“Evan, it's. It's clearly not okay.”

“It's fine. It's fine! It's, it's fine, sorry.”

“Sure…”

Evan, now silent, returned to the internet, and Connor tried floating again (with success - it was kind of like being on the moon; you could stand if you wanted, but you could float as well) until the novelty wore off. By the time it was dark, Evan had fallen asleep, leaving his laptop to overheat in his bed - Connor would have taken it from him, but he couldn't touch stuff. Time passed.

 

* * *

 

 

And then he was on his street, trailing behind Evan.

“Hey.”

“Fuck!” Evan exclaimed emphatically, “please stop doing that.”

“Why are we here?”

“It's Friday, I got invited to your house.”

“... Oh yeah, you did.”

“And Jared said that all I gotta do is just nod and confirm -”

“Wait, what are you confirming?”

“Stuff about - you, they want to know about you…”

“Wh-” Connor almost laughed. “They're my parents! You didn't even know me! Why would you know anything?”

“Well, you see, that's - that's the thing, I mean, you were there, in the meeting, they thought - that I meant a lot to you.”

“And, what, that means you know all my secrets?”

“I… guess?” They reached his front door, but Evan hesitated, clearly not ready to face the Murphys. Connor stuck his head through the door (uncomfortably; feeling your brain pass through solid wood does tend to give you a headache) and saw his mom preparing chicken, his sister probably upstairs, his dad in the living room waiting for Evan. How would they react, if they saw him? What would they say?

The thought filled the house like poison gas and he pulled back out, not facing Evan. “They're waiting for you.”

“So… what am I gonna do?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Nod and confirm, he said… nod and confirm. I can do that. Nod and confirm.”

“And if they ask you about something?”

“Then… then you help me out.”

“... Evan, I'm dead.”

“No, I mean! Uh, if, if they say ‘hey we never saw you and Connor hang out when and where did you go’, then you can say ‘oh yeah there’s this’, uh, ‘this park I used to go to a lot’, and I’ll say ‘me and Connor used to go to the park’, and then they’ll say ‘oh yeah he did go to that park I’m glad to know he had a nice life sometimes’. Like. like that.”

Connor thought about this, and came to the conclusion that it was a pretty good plan and they didn’t exactly have many other options. He was about to voice this opinion when Evan started up again.

“I mean - sorry, I’m sure you did have a nice life, I’m sorry, it’s just I thought - sorry - I didn’t think about it -”   
  
“Jesus, Evan, do you actually have something wrong with you?” It had dawned on him before, of course, because Evan never stopped apologising for things he hadn’t even done wrong, and it was a little more than you’d expect from your average nervous and shy kid, but… He didn’t even know why he’d asked, yet Evan looked up at him with wide eyes, then looked away and grabbed at his shirt reflexively. It told Connor more than whatever stuttered explanation Evan would have provided ever could.

“Right,” Connor said, after a second of uncomfortable silence. He couldn’t see what was going on in Evan’s head, but then Evan pushed the doorbell, and it was too late to go back.

“Just - tell me what to say.”

“Okay.”

“... okay! I can, do this. I can do this.”

“We can do this,” Connor corrected, a little offended. His dad opened the door.

“Evan. Come in.”

Evan nodded, and followed his dad inside - but, as Connor moved to follow Evan (as he so often seemed to be doing these days), the scene changed around him. Evan’s blue walls, Evan’s bed, Evan’s bedroom, Evan.

To Evan’s credit, he was only surprised for a second at Connor’s sudden reappearance before his face set. Anger, frustration, exasperation - maybe a little bit of relief was in there, too.

“Of course you’re here now. You know, I’m really starting to think I made you up this whole time.”

“What, even when I was alive? Tough job. How long was I… somewhere?”

“Few hours.”

“And I missed the whole of dinner? ... what happened?”

“Oh,  nothing. Just me doing it all by myself, and not needing your help at all, no thanks.”

“Wh- you did?”

“Well, you weren’t there and so I figured I had to just, make it up myself, you know, and it actually worked out because there was this moment where Zoe was like ‘there was nothing good about Connor tell me a good thing’ and - uh.”

“Oh, no no, go on.” He was a dick to Zoe most of the time, especially once she got to high school - he couldn’t blame her.

“Uh, I said, ‘we had a really great time when we went’ - ah, I think I said ‘apple place’? I have no idea, and I thought I was gonna be busted right then, but then your mom says ‘oh yeah we actually used to go to the orchard that’s a treasured memory I can’t believe he took you there’, and I said, uh, ‘yeah? Yeah that’s what happened’, and to cut a long story short I accidentally made it so you were there that day when I… broke my arm.”

“The orchard?”

Fuck, he hadn’t thought about that place in years. They had picnics there, whenever it was sunny out, he remembered! It was really nice there, but they’d stopped going nearly ten years ago, when it closed. “You - you accidentally got something we used to do exactly right.”

“Heh, yeah.”

“So you didn’t need me, at all.”

“No, that’s-that’s not what I - meant -”

“Even though that’s my house? My parents. My sister -” he pulls out the note, holds it up “- who you’re apparently obsessed with. My… my life, you’re pretending you were part of, are you gonna stop there? Would you want to? No, you don’t need me! You probably wouldn’t notice if I just… disappeared tomorrow!”

“So you did read it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” and he didn’t.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!”

Evan tuned him out and grabbed his laptop, probably going to tell Jared Kleinman about what happened at Connor’s house, and there was quiet.

 

 

Connor opened up the letter and read it - really, properly read it - for the first time.

When he had first found it, it had been a blur except for  **Dear Evan Hansen** yeah that kid over on the other side of the computer lab maybe this is his and  **because there’s** what the fuck does this kid think he’s doing talking about Zoe? Oh, it must be just another one of those assholes who think it’s so funny to make me freak out, well guess who’s the freak now, not me except when he got home and cried and  _ killed himself _ it was pretty freaky but there was no turning back.

When he had next seen it, he hadn’t read it at all - it had been in his pocket when he woke up, and also in his actual pocket where he would never wake up ever again. (Zoe had found him - had she read the letter? Did she see what Evan wrote about her?) He had stumbled and fallen over the fallout it had caused, and it was too late to see that nobody cared enough about him even to go that far wanting to see him freak out, that it was just Evan being fucking creepy about his sister,  _ his  _ sister who saw his body and screamed, her scream would follow him forever, but now he couldn’t go back.

When they took it to school, to show Evan, he had heard a little bit more of the note, seen a little bit deeper into what Evan felt like and what his parents thought Connor felt like, even though he’d never wax poetic like that, especially if he’d planned to write a suicide note. Still,  **I wish that everything was different, I wish I were a part of something, I wish what I said mattered** \- it sounded like the kind of thing that went on a note you’d been planning for months. And was Evan really so alone, to feel like nobody really cared about who he was and what he wanted? Well, in the moment it had sounded pretty accurate to how alive-Connor felt. Any way you went about it, they had been so hopeful to hear that maybe their son wasn’t the gas station attendant waiting to happen all his teachers had said he was, and Evan clearly hadn’t wanted to ruin it, so... He’d pushed aside his feelings to help them with theirs, and he would never have the heart to take it back.

The note had sat in his pocket from then on. Sometimes, when something important was said, he’d find himself reaching for it, gravitated towards it, as though it were what kept him stable. Maybe it was some sort of ghost thing - his anchor to the real world? That issue didn’t particularly press him like it probably should have. What he was currently focused on was how this letter was the saddest thing he’d ever read.

 

 

**Dear Evan Hansen,**

**Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week, or an amazing year, because why would it be? Oh, I know, because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know, and who doesn’t know me… But, you know, maybe if I did, maybe if I could just talk to her, then... Maybe nothing would be different at all.**

**I wish everything was different. I wish I was part of something, I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean, face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?**

**Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend,**

**Me.**

Like, how  _ bleak _ ?

“You do matter,” he murmured. Evan looked up.

“Huh?”

“It says, I mean, you do matter. To lots of people.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“And…  mean, not to sound like a clueless, artsy, wannabe therapist or anything, but - it doesn’t have to be an amazing day. Like, just because a day’s not the best fucking day you’ve ever had doesn’t mean it’s a failure.”

Evan didn’t say anything to that, but he did smile, and that was a win in Connor’s book, so he sat on the end of the bed while Evan typed. He was stronger now, more corporeal, and he could be completely solid (he figured) if he tried - the sensation of feeling the fabric, of gripping something tightly, was comforting. Relaxing, with the tap-tap of Evan's laptop in the back of his mind. It was subtle, but worked perfectly to make him feel real… realer. He smiled.

And then the Skype ringtone started, and Jared Kleinman broke the peace very loudly through Evan's shitty laptop speaker a second later.

“His parents think you were lovers, you realise that, right?”

Connor silently flopped back on the bed. This was not gonna be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rainbow comic sans]eugh[/rainbow comic sans]
> 
> Well, that was Connor's first few days back in the world! Sorry he keeps missing all the songs, he'll definitely be in Sincerely Me. Once I get the ball rolling for canon divergence, things will get pretty shaken up - but Connor and Evan (connevan?) will prevail despite the eternal lie thats foundation is being built around them! Or something.


	2. Eulogy From The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Splitting the title and getting alternate meanings tells you the two songs this chapter covers.

“His parents think you were lovers, you realise that, right?” 

They were sitting there in Evan’s room, looking equally horrified at this prospect, but for entirely different reasons. What a pair they were, except one of them was invisible. 

“What? Why would they think that?” 

“Um, you were ‘best friends’, but he wouldn’t let you talk to him at school, and when you did, he kicked your ass. That’s, like, the exact formula for Secret Gay High School Love.” 

“He does have a point,” Connor murmured, as Evan nervously shifted to a kneeling position on the bed 

“This is what I told you,” continued Jared, ”what did I tell you? Just nod and confirm!”

“Yeah, well, I tried to, but I just - you don’t understand, I got nervous, and then I just started _talking_ , and once I started, I didn’t…” 

“You couldn’t stop.” He was clearly upsetting Evan, yet showed no sign of stopping - what a dick. 

“Well, they didn’t want me to stop.”

“So, what else did you completely fuck up?” 

“Nothing. Seriously.” 

“Why do you talk to him?” asked Connor, while Evan shifted again, this time crossing his legs under the laptop. Evan shook his head in response, so Connor said, “alright,” floated up behind him, and made stupid faces at the camera that Jared couldn’t see. 

“Oh - I mean, I told them we wrote emails.”

“ _Emails._ ” Jared echoed, and Connor nearly resisted the urge to flip the kid off before remembering the lack of consequence intangibility to most of the world gave him. 

“Yes, I told them that Connor and I - or, um - well, that Connor had a secret email account -” 

“OH, right! One of those secret email accounts, sure! For sending pictures of your penises to each other.” 

The flipping-off faltered for a moment, then doubled. Evan looked at the wall, and, from Connor’s admittedly limited perspective, seemed to rethink his existence for a while. _Hey, at least one of us is thinking about the deep shit. Now I don’t have to figure out the fact that none of the past few days has made any sense._  

“... yeah. So I said he had this secret account, and that we would send emails to each other.”

“Sounds believable enough,” Connor pointed out, pretty optimistically for someone in his situation. 

“I mean, honestly, could you be any worse at this?” 

“I thought I was gonna have help, okay?” 

“- with what?” 

Evan paused. If he told the truth, Jared would clearly think he was batshit and never talk to him again, so he must have been thinking about what else he could possibly need help with. 

Trouble was, Evan definitely didn’t do well under pressure - so Connor stepped in. “You don’t have any emails to show.” 

A blink, and then Evan stood up almost in triumph. 

“Uh - they’re gonna want to see our emails!” 

“Ya think?” 

“... What are we gonna do?” 

Connor saw Jared’s face twist from incredulity at Evan’s lack of forethought into what he had only ever heard described before as a shit-eating grin. “I mean, I can do emails.” 

“How?” 

“It’s easy! You make an account, backdate the emails…” 

Connor was hardly listening. “I mean, you could probably show my parents a Word document with a date and they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Besides, you don’t need him in on this.” 

“You would do that?” Evan said, ignoring Connor. 

“For 2 grand.”

“... You - I mean - if it’s so easy, why can’t I just look up how to do it myself?”

“I don’t know, because you couldn’t get the character right? You’re way too nerdy to write a kid like Connor Murphy, he was well seasoned in the world of committing crimes and not having your mom be your best friend. You, on the other hand, are the type of guy who would, and has in the past, used the phrase ‘smoking drugs’.” 

“Dude, really?” asked Connor, somewhere between amazement and amusement. 

“That may be true -” Connor burst out laughing at that point “- but I don’t need you in on this.”

“Fine!” Jared shrugged. “Just don’t come crying to me when they find out because you have no idea what life is like for people who don’t take naps on Friday nights.”

He ended the Skype call before either of the two boys could get to the button on Evan’s laptop.

“Alright…” Evan began - 

and then his mom opened the front door. 

Connor looked up, looked around, and was about to head towards the window when he remembered he was invisible. “I’ll just, uh, stand. here. Ignore me.” 

“Okay??” Evan hurriedly sat back on the bed and closed the Skype window just as his mom arrived in his room. 

“Hey, you.” 

Heidi Hansen was small (about the same size as his own mother) and blonde. She seemed tired - no, more perpetually exhausted, if he could be forgiven for sounding like a pretentious fuck. Her clothes, like his, seemed to prioritise comfort over looking good to other people, which he supposed they had both given up on. _Side note, am I ever going to get to change my outfit again, or…?_  

“I have very exciting news - look, look what I found online today,” she declared, “college scholarship essay contests! Y’ever hear of these?”

“I think so?” 

“MPR did a whole thing about it this morning, there’s a million different ones you can do! A million different topics.” She offered Evan a piece of paper, and Connor quietly wondered what they were all about. Also, according to the fact his mom had believed he had a good chance at winning an essay contest, Evan could write at least a little well. “I spent my whole lunch break looking these up.” **John F Kennedy profile encouraged scholarship; 3,000 dollars**  

\- “You could pay off Kleinman with that money,” Connor mused - 

 **college of your choice. Henry David Thoreau Society** , “5,000 dollars!” 

“... Wow.” 

“College is gonna be so great for you, honey. How many times in life you get the chance to just start all over again?” _Not that he needs it right now - he’s doing great._  

“No, I know.” 

“You got so much - you have so many wonderful things ahead of you… High school isn’t all: the only people who like high school are cheerleaders and football players, and those people all end up miserable anyway.” _Yep, kinda sucks dick. I agree with you there._ “Yeah, you’re gonna find yourself in college, I really think so. Wish I could go with ya, hm?” She leaned into him, and Connor decided that she was a good mom. His mom wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t already have  a college fund set up for Connor… _What are they gonna do with my college fund?_  

Evan looked up at her, and she moved away. _Hug your damn mom - you never know when one of you will die._

 _Oh, a life lesson._  

“Anyway, I just thought these were, uh… you know, seemed like a neat idea.”

“Yeah, no, it is. For sure.”

“Well you’ve always been a wonderful writer! And we’re gonna need all the help we can get for college, unless your stepmother has a trust fund for you I don’t know about with all those faabulous tips she made cocktail-waitressing...” Heidi waited for a reaction, but Evan just picked at his shoe.

“You’re a tough crowd,” murmured Connor. She was such a nice mom, but she was getting zero feedback!

“Hey. I, uh. I got an email from your school today, about, uh… that boy who killed himself, Connor Murphy? I didn’t, uh…” She sighed. “I had no idea.” 

Evan made eye contact with Connor, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. I - I don’t really know. everything.” 

There was a pause, and Heidi moved towards him. “You know that, uh… If you ever - if you ever wanna talk about anyth- I realise it’s late, and you… must feel like I’m always working, or I’m at school…” 

“It’s fine!”

“Well, I’m here! Y’know? And if I’m not _here_ here, I’m a phone call away, or a text - email? Whatever.” 

“Thanks.”

“...” 

“...” 

“... It says CONNOR, on your -” 

“Oh. Uh, yeah -” 

“You said you didn’t know him." 

“- I said I didn’t know, everything. We - we were - we did know each other. I mean, we talked. Sometimes.”

“But is it -” 

“We weren’t really! Friends, or anything! Before he died! I just, nobody else signed my cast, so he said he would.” 

“Oh.” Her face relaxed somewhat, and she almost smiled. “I was worried that -” 

“No, no, no! I’m alright. It’s not, I’m fine.” 

“Okay. … You know what? How about I bag my shifts next Tuesday? I mean, when’s the last time we did a Taco Tuesday?”

“Nononono, you don’t have to.” 

“No, come on! You’ve been back at school a week already and I’ve barely seen you - maybe we could start brainstorming those essay questions together, huh?” 

“... That’d be great.” 

“Great! That’s exciting, I’m excited now, something to… Something to look forward to.” 

“Me too.” 

“You okay on refills?” 

This was the first time Connor had heard or seen anything that made him look at Evan’s bedside table, and he was interested to find that yes, he did take medication, and yes, this did mean he literally had something wrong with him. That made two of them. 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t stay up too late,” Heidi advised, picking up her bag, and they exchanged ‘love you’s. 

Then she left. 

“Is that really how much you see your mom? That was like 5 minutes.”

“She’s - she’s busy, a lot. We’re not millionaires.” 

“I can see that.”

He took advantage of the pause to come back over to the bed, shift Evan up and have them both sit in front of the laptop. As usual, it phased through his grasp when he wasn’t concentrating, but he remembered control after a second and managed to pull open a Word doc. 

“You weren’t kidding?” 

“They’re practically prehistoric. Come on, I’ll dictate, you type.” 

“Uh…” Evan raised an eyebrow. When Connor still didn’t show any signs of understanding, he waved his cast-ed arm a little. 

“Okay, but I’m a ghost - it takes a lot more for me to type than you. You don’t have to focus on not passing through the keys at every second, AND what the other person is saying, AND looking cool.” 

“... you concentrate on looking cool?” 

“It’s an art.” 

They ended up deciding that one would type what the other said, and Connor took a place on the tail end of the bed, at perfect height to watch Evan’s face while he typed. Not for any reason, of course, aside from the superficial.

“Okay, so, you know how we have to start it, of course…”

 

**Dear Evan Hansen,**

 

**We have got to talk more, man!**

**Things here are BORING; I can't wait till I see you again.**

**Summer vacation’s gonna last a lifetime long -**

**I might go mad unless I get myself a bong**

 

“What? You can't write that!”

“My parents know, pretty sure they figure it's just me ‘expressing my free spirit’ or something.”

“Uh… I mean, alright.”

 

 **I feel like the black sheep in a whole** **field of whites**

 

“No!”

 

**field of birds?**

 

“No.”

 

**field of moose.**

 

“... Sure.”

 

**Keep sending emails, or I'm stringing up my noose**

 

“That's… pretty dark, Connor.”

“What are you expecting my parents to do, worry for my health and safety?”

 

**I hate my parents**

 

“Don't say that!”

 

**I love my parents, but they annoy me to no end.**

**If I weren't such a dick they might believe I have a friend…**

 

“You're not a dick, Connor.”

 

**If I weren't such a waste**

 

_No._

 

**If I weren't such a jerk, they might believe I have a friend…**

**I'm not great with prose,**

**But I'm glad we're bros -**

**I'll turn it around, wait and see!**

**Cause all it'll take is a little reinvention**

**I can make a change, if I give it my attention**

**All I gotta do, is just believe I can change who I’m gonna be!**

 

**Sincerely,**

**Me**

 

“That's gotta be great, right?” 

“Not bad for a first draft -” 

“Evan, it's the year of our lord 2015, nobody drafts things any more. Give it here.” 

“... Alright.”

 

 **Dear Connor Murphy,**  

**Yes, I also miss our talks.**

**Please don’t do drugs - just try to take deep breaths, or go on walks.**  

 

“Doesn’t work.”

 

**I’m sending pictures of the most amazing trees!**

“What?”

 

**You’d be surprised to see my forest expertise.**

 

“You’re really into that?”

 

**I believe in you**

**Someday you’ll get through**

**You’ll turn it around, I can see!**

 

_Haha, wait and see._

They got really into fabricating these letters after a while, filling the whole past summer with back-and-forth exchanges of PLATONIC affection and, later, suggestions that Connor wanted to share the more private parts of his life with Evan. Like the orchard! Obviously! Not “private parts” like dick pics! Why would you even think that!

 

**Dear Evan Hansen, your notes always make me grin!**

 

**Dear Connor Murphy, I can’t wait for school again.**

 

“Damn, Evan, our fictional friendship goes way beyond your average kind of bond.”

“Wait, will they think we’re gay?” 

“Why would they think we’re gay?” 

“We’re just - so close!” 

“But not that way! The only man that I ever loved was my dad,” Connor defended, a little too testily. “Well, anyway, _you’re getting better every day_ , right?”

 

**I’m getting better every day!**

 

**Keep getting better every day, hey?**

**Cause all it'll take is a little reinvention**

**You can make a change, if you give it your attention**

**All you gotta do, is just believe you can change who you’re gonna be!**

 

~~**Sincerely,** ~~

~~**Miss you dearly,** ~~

**Sincerely,**

**Me**

 

“Sincerely, me,” Evan finished dictating. 

“Sin...cerely… me,” Connor narrated as he typed the last few characters before saving.

“Sincerely, me!” they said as one, in unison with the tap of the Ctrl+S. Their eyes met.

Then they both looked away awkwardly.

 

* * *

 

 

Evan gave Larry and Cynthia the emails the very next day.

“This - it’s just, uh, the first few, we, uh - we, we had a whole summer, y’know?” Connor felt, somewhere in the back of his mind, the need to calm him down somehow - but he couldn’t while his parents were here, or Evan might have to set up for a career as the Greatest Mime Ever. “I can print out more, if you want -” 

“It… These sound exactly like what Connor would say. It’s clear you two were really close, for him to write so… so candidly.” 

(Connor did a mini fist-pump behind Evan.) 

“We, uh. He did write them himself.” 

“No, I know - I never should have doubted, that he had friends in school, or that he was doing fine with… how he was. I mean, I don’t remember the last time I heard him laugh.”

“Neither do I,” Connor commented, and Evan echoed it, almost reflexively - 

“I mean,” he continued, “we had a nice time together, and there was that day, but - but, uh - he had a long way to go, and… I guess you can see that.” 

Quiet. 

“There are more of these?”

“What? Oh. Yeah! I can, I can bring you all of them if you want, but it might take a while to, to print them - there was about a hundred.” 

“Don’t make promises unless you can keep ‘em, Evan…” 

“Well, we would love to see them. We would love to see… everything we missed.” 

His dad said nothing. 

“Wouldn’t we.” 

He ‘mmhmm’ed, and it was the kind of ‘mmhmm’ that meant he was totally apathetic.

_Definitely picked the right favo-_

“Why are you here?” 

“Very polite, Zo! I knew those etiquette classes would work wonders,” he quipped, although nobody listened, because the one person who heard was busy blushing and fiddling with his shirt. Why, of all the not-ugly and not-awful people in the school, had Evan chosen Zoe to crush on? Was it the guitar? He could play guitar! 

 

Uh, not that that was related… 

“Zoe! Wait ‘till you see what Evan brought us. Emails from your brother!” She handed the papers over to Zoe, who appeared to skim through the pages, stop, double-take, and start reading them properly.

“How was your first day back?” 

“... Terrific,” she replied. Connor smiled a little. “All of a sudden, everybody wants to be my friend.” That was the sarcastic, annoying Zoe he knew and loved! She was clearly coping, which was great - this meant the whole family was managing. “I’m the dead kid’s sister, didn’t you know?”

(Evan glanced at Connor, and Connor shrugged - he had no idea what was happening at school.) 

“I’m sure they mean well,” his mom assured her. 

Evan hesitated. “... I should probably go -”

“You’re not staying for dinner?” 

“Oh, I just - I hadn’t planned on it?” 

“Then we can do another night. I can cook something for you!”

“No no no, you don’t have to -” 

“It would be my pleasure! We would love to have you.” 

There was a moment of quiet, and then Zoe surprised him by speaking up.

“Actually, can I... talk to you, Evan?” 

He looked at her, startled. She held her ground until he cracked. 

“Okay?”

“Not here. Mom, I’ll tell you about school later, or maybe I won’t, not like it matters. Evan, upstairs?” 

“I… sure, but I just -” 

“Great. See you, parents!”

She disappeared up the stairs, and he followed, a little behind Connor, who was hotly pursuing his sister. It was just like when they played Hide-and-Seek with the Harris kids back when they still visited; Connor would peek through his hands while counting, see a flash of purple from the corner of his eye, and sometimes open the door on her the moment he hit ten - once she knew she would be found in the better hiding spots any of the Murphys’ rooms contained, she swapped them out for more adventurous hiding places. (Of course, after the time he found her in the washing machine after half an hour of seeking, the Harrises no longer visited - this was, coincidentally, the year he hit ten.) Right now, though, she was definitely headed for her room, with the hole in the plaster their parents still hadn’t seen that led to the best spot in the upper half of the house, behind the boiler. Although she probably wasn’t planning on confronting Evan over whatever the matter was in that tiny alcove. It was probably going to be - yep, there she landed on her bed, leaving Evan a lavender desk chair across from it. 

He took a seat.

(Connor leaned around her closet and picked at the flaking plaster while they talked.) 

“Why did you lie?”

Man, she was quick. 

“What - I didn’t - I mean, Connor, he wrote these, we wrote - I mean, I didn’t -”

“Not the letters.” 

“Oh.” 

“... Look, am I going to have to spell this out for you? Connor only left the house three times last summer, and they were all trips to the therapist.” 

“... oh.”

“And I mean, I know _why_ you lied - I haven’t seen my parents that happy to hear somebody talk about my brother for, well, for forever.” 

“I… thank you?” 

“But, you know, if I had to sit through all those ‘Connor you’re gonna get rickets’, ‘Connor you need to make friends’,” 

“‘Connor put your chin up’,” he chorused with her quietly. 

And she blinked. 

But then she continued “- uh - those speeches… Then you don’t get to tell me he took you to the last place I saw him smile and get away with it.”

“... We never went there.” 

“I knew it!” She paused. “Wait, so how did you know so much about it?” 

“I was making it up as I went along. I was so scared you were gonna stop me, any second, tell me get out, stop making things up, Evan, we don’t want you here, find somebody else to annoy, stop wasting our time, you should have - Uh. But you didn’t.”

“That orchard… we spent some really great days there together. It’s kind of a big thing to me, not to… not to make it about a lie. And even if it wasn’t important to me - you, you can’t make it into a lie. Please.” 

“Okay. I wasn’t planning on it, it’s just… you kind of put me on the spot, and before I knew it I was taking the day I -” the hesitation is barely noticeable, but Connor know that Zoe heard it “- broke my arm, and making it the day Connor and I had a nice time but then I broke my arm.”

A pause, then Evan speaks again. 

“He… he never told me, about the orchard.” 

“I’m not surprised. The only time I ever saw you two talk, he was shoving you in the hallway for laughing, which I’m pretty sure you didn’t even do, and… Well, reading these, I can tell it’s him, it’s his voice - but, looking at it my way? It was like he had never even _met_ you.”

“... … Oh.” 

“What are you looking at?” she asked, as Evan sent Connor a frantic look that said, _cover for me, now_. Connor paused, thought about a couple of things Evan could possibly say.

 _“We actually hadn’t met! I just accidentally admitted to crushing on you before he died and now he haunts me.”_  

 _“Oh, no, Zoe - we knew each other a lot. You just never saw because we talked to each other telepathically.”_  

 _“Jared was right; we_ were _secret gay lovers. Crazy, huh?”_  

This wasn’t going to work. He shrugged. 

Evan swallowed and turned back to Zoe. “Is there… is there something behind your closet?” 

“I - yeah. There’s a hole in the plaster.” 

Connor said it with her - “Best hiding spot in the house.” 

And she had been smiling gently, almost wistfully, but now it faded, and she thought for a few seconds. 

“Did - did you hear that?” 

Evan, anxious as ever, was clearly unsure which way to side - the realistic option, or the crazy-but-true option. “Um. Hear what?” 

“It sounded like -” she stopped herself. “It’s nothing.” 

“Are - Zo, are you hearing me?” 

If she was, she didn’t show it - instead she smiled again, although a little too much for someone who may or may not have just heard their dead brother’s voice again. 

“Anyway! I can see you, actually did talk, and stuff - so I want to know why you lied about the orchard, and nothing else. It just - it doesn’t add up, you know?” 

“None of… what I’ve been through since Connor died has added up. I mean, I don’t know, I just - Connor - he’s just so… always there, whether you want him to be or not.”

“And for most of the time, it was not,” she laughed bitterly. “I’m not gonna kid anyone with how I feel - I don’t miss him like they do. You all miss him way more than me. Yes, there’s a big Connor-shaped hole in my life, but… it seems like everybody else wants the space filled again more than I do. So they’re crying, and wasting their time pretending he’s still here, but… He wasn't what they're making him. None of that’s the Connor I remember. The Connor I remember used to come into my room and say he was going to kill me, and then he would actually try. Do you have any siblings, Evan?” 

“- No.” 

“It fucking sucked. Don’t try it. But, like, why should I play like I'm the tragic little sister you see in the Christmas specials? You don’t cry when the supervillain dies, you thank God it wasn’t the heroes and you _move on!_ Nobody mourns when you vanquish the beast! And after all he put me through, when… when I heard you lying to my face about stuff you did together… well, I wondered how you made him sound so nice. It was like we met two totally different people. Like you hadn't met my Connor at all, hadn't seen him like I did.”

Connor examined his sister, but she didn't look back at him - her eyes were on Evan. 

Evan cleared his throat.

“Connor is not a supervillain," he stated firmly. "He may not be perfect, not at all, but… he's a good person underneath everything he uses to hide it.” 

“You can't let go, can you?” The laugh was back, but softer this time - less resentful. “You keep talking about what he is, what he does, he's not here any more. Whatever he _was_ , it isn't now. You need to forget him, Evan, come on. You're talking like he's still here.”

He looked back at Connor again. Zoe narrowed her eyes.

“I-I should - I should go.”

“Evan!” Zoe pushed down on the mattress, like she was going to stand, but seemed to think better of it. “Just… If you need to talk about Connor to anyone… Well, I'm always here is all I'm saying.”

“You said you wanted to forget him though -” 

“I do! But even if… if he wasn't a good person, not to me… well he was a good person to you and if you want to talk about him I can do that. So if you ever… need someone to talk to about Connor…”

“Thank you, Zoe. I think - I'll be fine. But we could still talk, if you want…”

“I'd like that.”

 

* * *

 

 “Thought you were shooting for the moon, eh, Evan?” Connor pointed out as they left, showed out by Larry. 

“Even if I missed, she's still got stars on the cuffs of her jeans,” replied Evan, smirking up at Connor - when did he get that short?

Oh yeah. Floating. That was a thing.

“Does she? I never noticed.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, and his attention shifted elsewhere. _Thinking about something. Probably the fact of the situation - you just talked to your crush about her dead brother, in front of said dead brother. Like, how weird is that?_

Evan was so focused, in fact, that he didn't notice when Connor dropped back and turned around. Flying (was this flying?) was much faster than walking, and in a minute he had arrived at Zoe’s window. She was curled up on the bed, her hair covering her face, her window cracked open - probably to get rid of the Evan Anxiety that had radiated off of him, almost tangible in its awkwardness. It never failed to distract Connor these days.

“Zo? He can hear me too, you know.” 

She shivered, and her head almost turned to look at him - 

Almost.

Instead, she turned over, now facing the wall, and straightened out a little. Connor sighed, and returned to Evan.

The rest of the walk home was in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the heckie? could it be evan is... contemplating his gay? you'll never know this story is third person objective


	3. Pretending You're Somebody Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan makes a new new trusted contacts. Connor is in the middle of it all, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao what the fuck is an upload schedule

Of course Connor never slept (not now he was a ghost) but last night had felt particularly not-sleepy. He’d found himself at 2am, crinkling and uncrinkling the note to fill the silence of a sleeping world with _something_ , and the noise was obnoxiously loud. Luckily, it hadn’t seemed to wake either of the Hansens, though - so he’d been totally alone in his own thoughts.

Which had made him admit a lot of things. 

Now, though, it was 9, and Saturday, and Evan was definitely awake and definitely getting dressed, as was evident by the fact Connor was stood outside his door. Heidi passed him straight by on her way downstairs to the kitchen, and Connor was once again part-amused and part-disturbed by the fact nobody else saw him. Nobody but Evan would freak out if he was in their room while they put a shirt on.

“Nobody but you has the privilege of knowing when I’m in their room and they don’t have a shirt on,” he commented.

“I do have a shirt on,” Evan grumbled.

So Connor phased through the door back into the room (and this time, his head barely even hurt).

“UH????? THAT WASN’T PERMISSION TO COME IN,” Evan protested in a whisper-shout, afraid of his mom asking questions and also very much not wearing pants.

“I - sorry!” No, he was not blushing.

“Just… turn around.”

“Okay,” he practically squeaked. Definitely not blushing. Connor Murphy was a badass emotionless rebel and he didn’t _blush like a schoolgirl_ in front of guys.

Suddenly, turning around was the best and worst thing to do in his mind.

 

* * *

 

It was a welcome distraction, the _ping_ of a Facebook message’s arrival. Connor was pretty sure Evan was glad to have a sign that they could talk again today too.

 

**Evan, hey! It’s Alana. How are you? How is everything?**

 

“Uh, fine?” Evan offered aloud, stupidly. Well, it wasn’t like he had done this before, but the solution was obvious to Connor at least.

“Your best friend killed himself, like, four days ago -”

“- week and a half -”

“- you’re definitely not fine. But she doesn’t want to hear that, does she?”

“I mean - I mean, Alana’s really good with, um, feelings. And things.”

“I know, she was in my Psych class junior year.”

“You took Psychology?”

“Heh, yeah. Figured if I knew why I had such a fucked-up mind, it might make me… a little less fucked up, y’know? Plus, it’s cheaper than therapy.”

 

**Evan? Are you here? The green light says you’re online…**

 

“Wait - I - God, what do I say? I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling, because you didn’t really leave me, so I have no frame of reference for being your friend and then you die, what is she expecting? Is the truth - well, not the _truth_ truth, the _sort of_ truth - is that gonna be easier for her to hear than if I pander, or…?”

“Evan.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to talk to her for you?”

“I… I’m not, I mean - won’t you sound like you? Not me?”

“I can do a flawless Evan Hansen impression, for your information.”

“Uh… sure. Fine, then. You talk.”

 

_yeah, I’m here. sorry! I’m doing as well as I can, considering._

 

The response was lightning fast.

 

**That makes total sense! Jared Kleinman was saying at school yesterday how you and Connor were such good friends, you kept no secrets.**

 

And then -

 

**If you ever need to talk to anyone, I'm here, okay?**

 

“Oh, well, thanks, Alana! That's nice of you,” Evan mused. Connor exhaled in amusement, then turned his fingers back to the keyboard.

 

_thanks alana - I think I'll be fine, though. I'll tell jared thanks._

 

He opened a new Facebook message box and was about to tell him “fuck you”, but Evan made a noise in protest and went to grab his wrist, so he closed it again.

 

_so, do you have any reason for messaging me?_

 

**Nope! Just wanted to check on you, make sure you were doing alright. Hope I'll see you back at school on Monday, by the way; but a word of warning, everybody is going to be asking you lots of questions about you, about Connor, about the situation. You might want to be ready for that.**

 

“Jeez, what a paragraph,” Connor murmured as he replied.

 

_would you, yknow, stick by me when I get back?_

 

**Of course!**

 

_you're a good friend._

 

“I -” Evan, having read the exchange through, seemed surprised at Connor's choice to reach out. But of course he had - who else was gonna flip off whoever made him uncomfortable?

… and they'd see it?

 

**Either way, you have my best wishes and I hope you come back in on Monday! Remember, I'll always be here if you need someone to talk. I've had to do my share of counselling this past 10 days, so I'm prepared!**

 

w _hat do you mean by that_

_?_

 

Whoops, slipped up there. Keeping punctuation consistent was a chore in Connor's head, and chores were something he just couldn't bring himself to care about.

 

**Well, Connor is really bringing everyone at school together - when they told the rest of us, Dana P cried so hard she pulled a muscle in her face! She had to go to the hospital!**

 

“Wasn't Dana P new this year?” Evan wondered aloud. “She didn't even know you.”

“Well, now she'll never get to, will she?” reasoned Connor, and thought for a second before replying.

 

_it's sweet that she had so much concern for someone she never met, i feel like we could take a lesson from her_

 

**Oh, me too! Connor's death has really brought the whole school together now that we have something to band together for. You’re really brave, to be able to face all of this, Evan - so will I see you Monday?**

 

“Will she?”

Evan paused. Then nodded.

 

_yeah_

_see you_

 

“Whatcha doin’?” Heidi asked from the doorway, startling both of them - Connor dropped his concentration, and the laptop phased through his legs and onto the bed.

“I, um, I - I just -”

“No, really, I can’t tell. ‘Cause you’re sitting one way, and your computer is, like, ninety degrees that way, and -”

“It’s not! don’t, don’t worry! I don’t really know either, I just…”

“Okay then, I won’t push it. Just letting you know I’m heading out, I left money on the table for dinner later. You can order whatever you want, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. It’s still, we’re still gonna do Taco Tuesday? On Tuesday?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me! I totally forgot, I still gotta get my shifts moved if we’re gonna do that. Working on the essays, right? Tell you what, if you wanna get a head start on that, you can take a look at the questions and, y’know, write something down. I gotta rush right now though, see you at eight-thirty!”

“Bye, Mom,” Evan said with a small wave, and his mom closed the door behind her. They heard the front door go a few seconds later.

“You know,” Connor commented, picking the laptop back up again and idly clicking through to his own, rarely-used Facebook profile, “it kinda - surprised me, when I saw your mom. It's like, she's always gotta go do something; my mom… well, my mom used to just sit at home and bitch all day. Pretty sure she still does.”

"Hmm," Evan responded, not looking over.

His most recent Facebook post, last year, was a picture of when the family had gone to visit his grandparents in Mississippi and forced him to smile for the cameras at the Maritime and Seafood Industry Museum. It was forced as hell, but he'd posted it to make his mom shut up about preserving memories and how they needed to commemorate their shared experiences ( _bet she never expected I would die before she did,_ he thought darkly). What surprised him, though, was that below the picture the statistics read **Cynthia Murphy, Joanne Murphy, and 178 others have liked this** and **154 comments (expand)** \- “jeez, is this all people saying shit about me?”

“What?”

“My Facebook, it has like a billion comments. Let's see…”

 

**Alana Beck: So sorry to all affected! RIP Connor, gone too soon but forever remembered.**

**Bethany Finn: no words. rip connor**

**Christine Hsu: I used to see Connor every lunch period - never expected things to go this way! Rest in peace, Connor…**

 

“I don't even know these people! Gabby Ellis? She's a freshman! She shared a school with me for 3 days!”

“Yeah, but - but you gotta - maybe you, maybe you kind of affected them in more ways than you - I don't know.”

“What, you're telling me that some random senior who offed himself instead of actually talking to you and working it out is making everybody open up about their emotions? I'd have thought we'd need at least a couple popular people to go down too before we finally woke people up. It wasn't like I mattered to them before, why would it be different now?”

Evan looked at him, distressed, but he didn't respond. Connor broke the eye contact first, turning his head back to the laptop screen and the dozens upon dozens of empathetic, concerned, _caring_ comments from people who _cared_ about him.

He let himself drop out of existence.

 

When he came back, Evan was knocking on the door to his house, and he was stood on solid ground behind the other boy. His eyebrows narrowed for a second as he oriented himself - had he skipped all the way to Wednesday?

Evan stiffened slightly. He'd felt Connor arrive.

“Same day,” he muttered, and the door opened before Connor had a chance to realise what that meant.

“Hel- Evan?”

Zoe.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, uh. I know it's - not Wednesday yet, but. I - I wanted to talk.”

“Fine, just - keep quiet. If my mom hears you coming in, she'll start making you dinner,” she quipped dryly, and turned on her heel, hair flipping like a shampoo commercial behind her, as though assuming Evan would follow unconditionally.

He did.

“Look,” Evan began hesitantly when they reached her room (and Connor, this time, sat next to Zoe on the bed to observe the actual conversation instead of doing anything noticeable), “I know you didn't exactly… like Connor very much, but -”

“Evan. Let me stop you there.”

Connor leaned forward in interest.

“I didn't… Connor gave me hell, sure. He was never a good brother, everybody knew that. But he was still your friend, and if you need to ask me about him I'm willing to put all of that aside to talk about him. So don't keep apologising for the fact that you were his friend and I… wasn't, because it's not going to get you anywhere.”

“... Alright,” Evan conceded, with what Connor perceived as relief. His eyes kept flickering between Connor and Zoe - she would probably see it as nervous breaking of eye contact, but he could tell that Evan had no idea which Murphy to focus on. (Although why Evan would be staring at _him_ , he had no clue - wasn't all his hope supposed to be **pinned on Zoe**?)

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“Uh, well. It's about… something Connor said.” Something he said? When? In their fictional timeline, or while they'd known each other for real?

“Right.”

Evan stared at Zoe's feet for a few seconds, relatively expressionless - then he seemed to remember where he was, and looked back up.

“It was, uh. Before he - I mean, of course it was before he died, how could it be after he died, I'm being confusing, I'm s… It was in the summer.”

“So this is in an email?”

“Wh- yeah, it… No. It was a phone call, actually.”

“A phone call?” Connor repeated, surprised.

“You phoned Connor?” Zoe asked at the same time.

“Yes,” Evan confirmed decidedly. “It was a phone call, in the summer. And we were talking about… something else, I don't know what, but Connor… he said, uh… he didn't think -” he faltered, making worried eye contact with Connor.

“She's listening,” pushed the latter.

“Connor… he didn't think he… mattered,” Evan managed.

A pause.

“And I just wanted to know what you’d say about that." 

Connor turned to look at Zoe, whose lips were pursed in thought, whose eyes had a look in them that he didn't recognise seeing on her. She was silent for a while.

“... What would I say about that?”

“Yes.”

“... shit. That's… what would I _say_ about that?”

Evan started to look as though he'd rather be anywhere but here. “Yes.”

“I would say… I would say that Connor mattered a lot more than he thought he did. To everyone. To me.”

“Y-you would? I mean… right. Is that all?”

For a moment, he saw Zoe’s eyes leave Evan, searching around him for… He didn't know what. Her expression never faltered, though, and Evan didn't seem to notice the lapse before she looked back at him.

“No,” Zoe cautiously began, “there's actually a lot of things I could say, about him. He didn't think I noticed, but I did.”

Connor could almost hear the guitar chords swell.

“Like… Connor - he never used to smile, but when he did, it would light up the room.  
Connor was passionate as hell if you found something to break through the gloom.  
And Connor - if he was feeling bored, he used to draw little stars on his arms.  
And Connor used to blow his whole allowance on those dumb plastic dollar-store charms.  
But I kept all that inside my head -  
Always saw, but never said,  
And now I wish I had - cause I can't get that back,  
Not even if I try,  
But if he was nearby…

If I could tell him, all the things I used to see -  
If I could tell him, how he meant something to me,  
But it's too late for me to start,  
And… would he understand it's from the heart?  
If I could tell him,  
If I could tell him…”

Evan was flicking back and forth between him and Zoe again. “I didn't - I didn't think you would…”

“Care this much,” Connor finished quietly.

“Well, I do care. And I could keep going, because y- he was important.”

“Uh, I mean. Please do.”

"Well… Connor is really fucking stubborn -” she shook her head “- _was_ really fucking stubborn, didn't even back down if you’d ask.  
And Connor used to fall asleep in lessons, but he always got A’s in each class!  
And I kept all that inside my head,  
I just wish that I had said -

If I could tell him, all the things I used to see -  
If I could tell him, how he meant something to me,  
But it's too late for me to start,  
And would he understand it's from the heart?  
If I could tell him,  
If I could tell him -

But what can I do? No changing that he's gone.”

“I didn't think you felt this way…” Connor said to himself. Just the other day she'd been talking about how she wished everyone would stop caring about him so much - he had never expected her to be one of them. Part of him was disappointed that she wasn't sticking to her guns, if he was honest.

“Oh, what can I do, but forget and carry on?”

“You didn't need to shut him out,” Evan added, although seemingly not towards either of the Murphy siblings - he was ignored.

“It's too late to say… I loved you.  
I loved you,  
I loved you!  
I loved… you…”

And she realised where she was, an awkward smile already trying to cover her face. Connor hadn't felt the need to hug her this hard since… well, since the morning he died, but he held back. _Let her talk._

“But… it's too late for me to start.  
I wish that I had had a change of heart…  
If I could tell him - if I could…” 

Evan was staring at him. Gauging his reaction. Connor, for once these days, was without some witty comment, and that was fine. There was nothing that needed to be said.

 

Zoe, apparently,

disagreed.

 

“But I can, right?”

 “Wh-what?”

“Connor. I can tell him, I ca- You hear him.”

“... What??”

“He's here, I know he is, you - you keep looking, in the same place, every time, he's here and I heard him and you can _see_ him, Evan, you can -”

“What?”

“Connor! You see him! We both - before, you didn't say anything about caring, it was Connor. It was… this whole time - Connor - _Evan_ , this is…”

Evan, across the room from Zoe's unprecedented mad rambling, looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack. Connor stepped forward to comfort the other, hands reaching out to grip Evan's shoulders and steady him, before he remembered that it wouldn't make contact anyway and withdrew. Evan watched him, wide-eyed but wary.

“... You hear Connor?” he repeated, still not quite looking at her.

“Yeah,” she beamed, “and you do too, right?”

Evan didn't respond.

Zoe wilted.

“You… don't. You don't. I'm just crazy.”

Connor felt like he had to say something. “No, Zo, you're not -”

Zoe spoke over him. “You had better go, Evan. Can't… can't have my mom finding out you were here, right?” The smile on her face was more plastered and fake than a wall with bricks painted on it, and all three of them knew it.

“... Right,” Evan managed.

And Connor found the two of them leaving his house, just like that.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell?” he ranted, at several points during their journey home. “Zoe just told you you're not an insane freak who sees dead people like you thought, and I know that's what you thought! Why didn't you say something?”

“Okay, I - I panicked, okay?” Evan replied, the second time, “I didn't, I didn't expect it and it was totally out of nowhere and she just - _vomited_ all that stuff at me, I didn't know how to - to respond to it all.”

“Well why not turn around right now and go back there and have that discussion with her instead of running away until Monday?”

“Because - because I don't… She probably already hates me now, for making her trust me and then just breaking it like that. I can't just… go back and pretend I didn't do that, alright?”

“Fine. Procrastinate it then,” Connor said conclusively.

“Maybe I will,” Evan added.

The tension in the room between them when they got home was like... a game of Jenga - it had started out packed and manageable, but with the events of the day, things had become increasingly unstable and frail. The tower was too tall for comfort now; question was, who would be the one to topple it?

(It was Connor, in the end.)

“I'm going out,” he announced, a little before sunset. They spent all of their time just sitting in this room, Evan on the laptop, Connor eternally fiddling with his phantom copy of the note - it was suffocating at the best of times. The pockets of space in their tower just weren't enough to feel like he could be enjoying himself.

“Okay,” Evan replied absently, “don't pass on while you're gone.”

“I can -” he put on a show of pain “- feel my angel wings unfurling. What a beautiful light!”

“Angel?” He was focused now. “You really think?”

“Well, no. Killed myself, didn't I?”

“Oh. That's fair.”

“Anyway, I'll see you. Hey - eat something, alright? We skipped lunch to talk to Zoe.”

“I'm not hungry -”

“Bullshit. Eat.”

And with that, he launched himself at Evan's window, passing gracefully through the glass with only the briefest pulse of a headache and finding himself in a quite natural flying position considering the one he'd contrarily attacked his exit with. It was fun, if you forgot what you were trying to do and where you were going.

But, of course, objectives were made to be followed, and set to be achieved - so, before long, he found himself back in the same place he'd been after Evan last excused himself from somewhere in a hurry. That being Zoe's window.

It was open again, but he knocked anyway before coming to a rest on the sill.

“Zo? Can't hide from me now, motherfucker, I have your testimonial.”

She was sitting on the chair. The one she'd been putting Evan in for both today and last time, purple like the rest of her damn room, with neat unstained fabric that showed all she used to ever let sit there was paper - that chair.

“Figures,” Zoe said. She didn't turn to face him, or turn to him at all, really.

“What figures?”

“I'd be crazy enough to hear a dead guy talking, and crazy enough to think his former best friend did too - but not crazy enough to see him.”

“And?”

“And not crazy enough to be right.”

Connor pulled himself through the window. Zoe's room smelled like lavender and violets, as he knew from the endless bottles of Lush soap that turned up in their trash’s labels; it was a change from the room he now spent most of his time in, which just smelled like Evan. No fragrance he could pick out in particular - except the particular fragrance of Evan Hansen, which lingered a little even here and now. He wasn't sure if that was welcome here or not, but it was grounding. A smell he had never properly experienced before he died was as good a proof as any that this was all real.

(And his room just smelled unapologetically like weed, anyway.)

“I'm real,” he tried to begin, but stopped himself when he realised how unbelievable that sounded. “I mean - I died. Before. Like, for real. But I'm… also here now?”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” she snapped back. Connor felt his face trying to smile - that was his sister, no doubt about it.

“Evan does see me, you know.”

“I kn- he seemed pretty dead set on convincing me he had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Yeah -”

“Because that was what that exchange gave me - he didn't see you, and I was… This is crazy, right?”

“Totally. You're losing it.”

“See, now I'm more inclined to believe that this isn't crazy, because you said that.”

“Glad to know how much my opinion matters to you,” he deadpanned.

Silence.

And then a sound.

Zoe was crying.

“You're crying.”

“I know,” she sobbed, “I'm fine.” 

“You're smiling.” 

A pause. She still didn't turn around.

“I missed you.”

Connor went to hold her again, and it didn't land, again, but Zoe shuddered and a fresh wave of happy tears came from her. 

They stayed like that until Zoe fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWWW what the fuck that was too cute for me
> 
> sorry i kept you hanging for 6 weeks i was doing other stuff (thats not a worthy explanation i know there is none)
> 
> and this chapter was a little shorter than the others I just wanted to cut it off here
> 
> thanks for coming, comments keep me alive


	4. Lunch Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of anger, a little understanding, and a heap of other feelings that Connor has no chance of making any sense of, all in the space of half an hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an upload what? sked jool? i only know procrastination and writing like 3 other things that i never plan to publish (including a richie tozier/mike wheeler fic for some fuck reason)

Jared was selling Connor Pins.

"What the fuck," Connor murmured, watching with a morbid sense of curiosity as the glasses-clad nerd pitched his wares to his schoolmates.

"Step right up, honor the memory of Murphy! Fifty cents, today only. You too can show that Connor meant something to you with these pins! Come on, these are amazing deals!"

"What," Connor repeated, louder this time, "the fuck."

"I don't know!" Evan hissed, trying very hard not to be noticed.

"Half the deals for twice the price!" Jared continued, unaware of the ghostly rage stirring invisibly just feet away from him.

What the actual fuck, though? This was... Connor didn't even know. Had Zoe seen these? Well, no, or Jared's nose would be substantially more broken than it currently was - he must have just set up in the lunch hall like five minutes ago to get past her.

With these...

Personalised pins and wristbands.

Connor's fist clenched in his pocket.

Some girl, probably a freshman judging by her tiny size, practically skipped over to Jared's table, offered him a dollar, and walked back over to her table, full of who Connor assumed to be the popular kids of the lower grades. (He'd never kept track of anything younger than his sister, especially school-wise.) They laughed when they saw what she'd done.

"Oh, yeah, the death of a high schooler. Fucking hysterical."

"They're - I mean, they're probably laughing at. At him. Jared I mean not you," Evan reasoned in his typical stuttering manner.

And he was right, of course, but Connor was already mad at this point and it would be way too sensible of a choice to give up the gho...st... 

No. He couldn’t laugh, at his own joke no less. This was  _ business.  _ This was  _ serious. _

Luckily, Jared noticed Evan at this point, which helped him remember exactly how infuriating the guy was simply by existing. “Hey-hey, you’re back,  _ buddy _ ! Had your fill of free vacation?”

“It's - it's not like that, Jared, I was - I needed time to -”

“Recover? Sure. Allll that… recovering.” Connor felt the familiar heat of rage warming his veins even now. In life, this energy would usually end up consuming him until he released it, usually with something like pushing over the nearest available target, or screaming at his sister until she became convinced he was going to kill her. He hadn't been given an opportunity to get that pissed as a ghost yet, though. Hey, on the bright side, at least if he punched Jared's throat in, he wouldn't get any retribution for it.

(Except for Evan's disappointment, which would really be the worst punishment of all.)

“I didn't exactly spend that time having a - a  _ party _ , you know, I had to - talk to the Murphys and tell them about… Y’know, Connor and stuff.”

“Ah, yes, Connor Murphy. Your new best friend. How's he doing, by the way? Still dead? Yeah, thought so. I'm sure you two have the most scintillating conversations.”

“Jared!” Evan hissed, “you're making a scene!” It was true. People were starting to look up from their lunches.

“Oh yeah? I suppose you'd know, what with that whole big gay scene you made up so that Zoe Murphy would finally suck your dick and whatever other weird fantasies you have.”

“It's not - that is not how it happened!” His volume had started to rise, so he checked it. “And I don't even like Zoe that way any more!”

“You don't?” Connor and Jared said at the same time.

“I -” He hesitated. “No.” His tone suggested to Connor that he meant  _ I'll explain later _ . “This isn't about her, it was never about her. This is about Connor.”

“Ah, yes, Connor. That kid you didn't know.”

“I didn't need to know him to see that he was having some issues! His family needed someone to give them… give them something they could - hold on to. I already got Zoe to realise that she really did miss him, and his parents had the emails -”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You  _ wrote the emails  _ you were talking about? And the Murphys  _ bought them? _ ”

“... Yes?”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , dude. I had my doubts, but… Guess you are the master con-artist you said you could be.”

“O...kay?” Evan didn't seem sure of whether Jared was joking or not. Connor found himself moving forward to face off with Jared and his stupid table of Murphy-related wares - a dollar fifty for a band, that wasn't even a good deal.

“Like, literally,” Jared continued, “I would never have figured you could actually play a convincing Connor. What - you get his ghost to write them for you?”

Evan blanched.

“N-no!”

A beat, and then he realised.

“I mean. No. That would be - I mean, that's stupid, that wouldn't - no.”

“Somebody's on edge today,” Jared smirked. Connor knew his next remark would be bad. “Forgot to take your meds this morning?”

“ _ Fucking  _ shut up, Jared,” Connor said, fists clenched tighter so that his fingernails dug somewhat painfully into his palm. His thumb reflexively found itself on the outside, likely as a result of muscle memory from all those fun days Larry had tried to teach him the manly practice of combat.

“Shut up, Jared.”

“I was  _ kidding _ , Evan, you always take things so seriously.  Jeez, if I knew you were gonna be this difficult to talk to, I woulda never said anything; you're all wrapped up in having a gay ol’ time with your good buddy Connor, you've forgotten about your real friends.”

Evan hesitated. His eyes, worried, flickered to Connor's - clearly, the barrier that was Jared not knowing about the whole ghost thing prevented him from making any good argument. He found himself untensing slightly, ready to pitch a response that might help Evan calm down and get around the issue -

Jared continued.

Square one.

“Face it, Evan. You're a shitty friend, a  _ liar, _ and you're wasting all this time on someone who's gonna be forgotten about by everyone in like a week, he doesn't even  _ matter  _ -”

And that was when Connor slammed the table.

A lot of things happened in that moment. Zero in on the point of impact: pins and wristbands, adorned with what he now noticed was one of his better selfies that he'd posted circa junior year, went flying with the shock waves and skittered across the floor to a few feet’s radius around the table. The table itself made a huge clattering noise as its metal legs were forced onto the linoleum floor. Even Jared's change box, a tin with some sort of seashell design on the sides that he hadn't really noticed before, jolted about half an inch away from where his hands had landed. It was a pretty satisfying collision, honestly - if he'd just phased through it, he wasn't sure what he'd have done with himself. Maybe kick a wall.

Zoom out - Jared, stood right behind the table, had the initial reaction of surprise. His hands shot out to catch the falling merchandise, unsuccessfully. Then, as he began to reach for the nearest casualties, his expression turned to confusion. Understandably; from his perspective the table had just randomly freaked out in the middle of his sentence. His head came dangerously close to going through Connor's leg as he collected what was on the floor on his hands and knees - Connor stepped away.

And then there was Evan.

In the moment, Evan had also showed surprise like Jared had. He'd jumped away from the sudden noise, except Evan could see exactly what had happened, so while Jared had been confused as to why the table had slammed itself into the floor all of a sudden, Evan could immediately direct his reaction at Connor. Although he didn't immediately connect Evan's expression to an emotion, as the world was resuming motion around them and their eyes stayed locked, he realised what it was.

Evan was scared of him.

“What the hell was  _ that _ ?” Jared wondered loudly from the floor. “Like, a freak earthquake or something?”

“Uh, probably?” Evan responded about an octave higher than his usual voice pitch, his anxiety at having to lie actually turning out to be a perfectly convincing impression of his usual anxiety.

“ _ Weird _ ,” continued Jared obliviously.

Evan (and naturally by extension Connor) hastily retreated to the library before they could resume the conversation.

“Okay, that was not necessary,” the former began once they were tucked away in an isolated corner of the room.

“What?” Connor protested.

“You freaked Jared out, now he might notice that something weird’s going on with me -”

“Thanks.”

“- which might make him tell people the truth (well, not the  _ truth  _ truth, the lie truth… no, that doesn't… you know) and if people find out I was never friends with you they'll hate me forever especially your family and then I'll be alone in the world except for you but if I talk to you people will think I'm, like, double crazy so I'll have to pretend you don't exist and that'll make me even more alone which I guess I probably deserve? For lying to everybody, Jared was right now that I think about it, I am a shitty friend to him, I should apologise for -”

“Evan.”

“Yes?”

“Stop.”

Evan paused, looked down. Then met Connor's eyes again.

“You're right. I'm sor-”

“Hey! You don't have anything to be sorry for, Evan, I'm the one that should be sorry. For, y'know. Blowing up like that, before. I know I scared you -”

“- no, don't, I'm fine -”

“- I did! I'm just a shitty person who never learned how to express my anger in a healthy way, so I just... hurt things.”

“You're not shitty -”

“I hurt you.”

They were both silent for a moment.

Connor continued, “it's true, thou-”

Evan reached out and took Connor's hand. “You wouldn't be here if you hadn't.”

Oh, man. He was starting to blush again. Why was it that everything Evan did made him feel so… flustered? “I guess you're right.”

“And, I mean, I would say that's a good thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Not like there was any other way I was gonna WAIT.”

…?

“WAIT A SECOND.”

“What?”

“I  _ touched you. _ ”

“You -”

“I'm  _ still touching you. _ ”

Connor looked down. It was true.

“But I'm -”

“You're a  _ ghost. _ ”

“Yeah, that was what I was gonna s-”

“ _ How is this possible? _ ”

“... Are you panicking?”

“ _ I think so??? _ ”

“Okay, Jesus, just… Do you want me to let go?”

“ _ Don't you dare, Connor Murphy. _ ”

Alright then. That was… weirdly hot, to be honest. Maybe it was the full name, maybe it was the idea of Evan being so… Maybe he should stop there. Either way, it had positively sent shivers down his spine.

God damn it. He was dead. There was literally no greater turn-off.

( For most people .)

“Uh… Roger that,” he managed to reply, and gave Evan’s hand a squeeze for good measure. “You breathing ok?”

“Maybe? I don't know, I touched you, you're a ghost, what the hell,” he responded, unhelpfully. Connor sighed.

“Try and… y’know, not hyperventilate. I touched the table before, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but that's like standing on the floor, it's different,” he argued, all in one breath. Connor squeezed Evan's hand again, and he took a deeper breath in.

...

“And out.”

And out.

“You haven't been touchable by people before now, though, right?”

“Not while I’ve been… you know.”

“So this is weird, right?”

“For sure. Breathe in?”

He did.

“Why am I the only - I'm breathing out now - why am I the only one freaking out here, then?”

“Oh, I am freaking out,” Connor assured him, “you just can't see it.” He was honestly repressing his reaction, whatever it was, for Evan's sake -  this was more important.

Evan took a few minutes to stop being quite so spooked. In the meantime, Connor watched to make sure nobody approached Evan - but, it seemed, nobody even wanted to look at him.

Connor was no stranger to never being seen. People stared, sure. He had cultivated, over the decade where he'd had any freedom over his appearance, the image of somebody who got stares: the black hoodies, the hair length, the nails. He pretended to sleep at the back of classes so that people would wonder how he got a grade. He scowled at anyone who made eye contact. Strangers would look at this person and they'd think “gosh, better steer clear of that guy”, and they'd keep looking until something more worth their attention showed up.

Because while they would look, they didn't actually see a damn thing. Maybe ten people at school knew his name. Maybe twenty could single him out in a memory, and none of them would pick a good one. (For example, anyone who had been in his grade in elementary would remember the printer incident. Which he would never have remembered if people didn't keep using it as their fucking “you know, Connor Murphy?”.) In three years and a week of living high school, he'd spoken to Zoe, Evan, Jared Kleindick, Alana Beck and maybe three project partners - although that was only to tell them that he would do the writing, not the talking - so, overall. Not exactly a social butterfly.

Nobody saw him, and for years he'd kid himself that it was gonna happen any day now; the fateful encounter, the “hi, what's your name?” or the “Connor, come sit with us!” he'd always wanted, but which evaded him every time he reached for it. So, junior year, he gave up. Tied up some rope, hooked it up to the ceiling fan, laughed at the mental image. Mom would freak. But ceiling fans have the unfortunate property of not holding the weight of unreasonably lanky sixteen-year-olds, and he had to pay for the damage out of pocket, and he figured the next time he'd have to do a lot more planning and prep.

(Which made what actually happened kind of ironic, really.)

That incident, however, had also meant a happy six-week stint in rehab! And they didn't give a shit about him there, either!

Memories started dropping in frequency and clarity once you got to the weed part of things, but it was basically more of the same. At least nobody at school beat him up, not in high school - that privilege was reserved to the rare occasions that he crossed his dad. Either way, he could hardly even take the lack of peer-level abuse as a good thing, because it was only really a result of the fact that, again, they never even saw him as more than a weirdo that should be avoided. If he'd spoken to a single one of the jocks and sportsballers at this school, they would probably have taken it as an invitation to introduce him to the world of Wife Beater Training, especially if he ever dared come out. Some of them were scary. Even that guy Rich - he was tiny, but an absolute nightmare.

So, if he was never seen before, what could the situation be considered as now?

Well. He'd seen what Jared was capitalising off of, and he'd seen it work. Everybody wanted to look like his best friend, look like they'd always known he was a troubled soul and wanted to stop him from escaping that hellhole they called a school. Which hadn't worked, so anyone who was complaining about never being able to know him from now had clearly just not been important enough to have any long-lasting effect.

(Although what that made Evan, he still wasn't sure.)

But even now, they all talked big about understanding his plight, him living on forever inside their hearts - nobody fucking gave a real shit. Nobody! Everything was fake! The real him was going to get totally lost, and there was jack shit Evan or Zoe could do about it now. To Jared, he was an icon. To Alana, he was a puzzle she thought she'd solved. To his parents, he was a lost fucking cause, gone too soon, oh no, cry for us. He wasn't Connor any more. He was the dead kid.

And that sucked.

So watching the people in this library breeze past, like Evan was a decorative lawn ornament, not seeming to care or stopping to notice that he was there at all? Well, it kind of felt like a warning sign. Like a, “he's next!” kind of warning sign.

Which was. You know.

“... good,” he just caught the end of Evan saying quietly.

“Yeah?” he asked, hoping that it was a sufficient answer.

“Sorry.”

“Didn't we just talk about that?”

Evan’s first reaction was confusion, but the next moment he smiled, a laugh bubbling up that overflowed to Connor even before it had any substance. Connor had a feeling that before long, they would be laughing like idiots.

“Hey, Evan, are you okay?”

And the moment was gone, replaced by the concerned frown of Alana Beck.

“What? Yeah. Why?”

“I just came from the lunch hall, Jared said you two had a fight,” she explained. “At least, I think that's what he said. He was icing his face.”

Thank you, Zoe.

“Um, I guess,” Evan considered, “we kind of did.”

“You hit him?”

“No!”

“Well, what was the fight then?”

“He, uh… he said some stuff about me, and. I left. That's it.”

“I thought it must have been worse -”

“Nothing happened! I didn't do anything!”

“... Alright,” Alana conceded.

“Did you need anything?”

“Huh? Oh, no - I just wanted to check on you. It can't be easy being you right now, can it?”

“I… guess not?”

“I mean, with Connor, and losing the support of Jared at a time where you would really need it, and -”

“Yeah, I get it, Alana?”

She blinked.

“Sorry! I'm doing that thing again, aren't I?”

“Well -"

“My mom told me that I dominate conversations too much and I should give other people a chance to speak, and also that I stick on one topic for way too long which alienates the person I’m talking to because they don’t think I’m paying attention to them and I just want to talk about myself, and that sounded like a pretty selfish thing to do when she put it like that, so I want to make sure people don’t feel like I’m taking over and stuff.”

Connor looked over at Evan. “Rain check?”

“Y-you kinda were,” he admitted.

“Sorry! Did you have anything to say that I interrupted?”

“Um, not really. I’m just… kind of hoping this whole thing will blow over from here on out. I mean, Connor Murphy  _ memorabilia _ ? That has to be the peak of things, right?”

“It’s… pretty ridiculous, yeah,” Alana agreed, “but that doesn’t mean everyone needs to forget about Connor. In a week, he could just be that dead kid whose name nobody remembers - and I think that’s worse than what he’s already been through.”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe that was what he wanted? To be forgotten?”

“No one deserves that, Evan. No one.” Connor could hear her conviction, on the verge of anger; did she have someone in her life who had disappeared like that?

Either way, the two were interrupted by the bell to signal the end of lunch break, and she quickly walked away and into the crowd of students heading to their various lessons. Evan and Connor were left completely alone before long, and Evan was the first to stand up.

Connor was about to join him when their hands broke contact, and suddenly the world fell away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

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